Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Samuel decided that he could call the evening a moderate success. Troy may be drinking his scotch with impunity, but Robert and Mary seemed to be having a good time, and Wolfe hadn't called him the wrong name even once.

He'd set the table on the deck with his best china and stemware. Mary gave him a soft smile when she looked at the table, but thankfully didn't comment. Wolfe had grilled the steaks to medium-rare perfection, and the wine was perfectly chilled. Samuel would not have tried to serve steak with any white wine under any circumstance, but John was right as usual; this pairing was exquisite. He wondered idly where the man had learned about fine food and wine.

Wolfe and Crane, he thought, still moved together like a well oiled machine, then immediately stepped away from John. He dared to hope that no one had noticed until Robert joined him in loading the dishwasher.

"Mary's taking John to see the animals." She was proud of the students' hard work raising livestock every year and showed them off to anyone she could drag down to the paddocks. "Will it be very hard to see him every day?"

Samuel decided that hope was lost when he sputtered over his denial. As much as he might insist that everything was fine, Robert continued to wear the knowing expression.

This business of having close friends was becoming rather a bother. Bad enough to answer to Jack, now that 'Mother Mary' was in the know... Stop that right now. Your friends care about you.

He looked up at Robert again and gave a sad shake of his head. "I truly doubt this can go anywhere positive. Too much pain, too many old debts."

Much later, when the house was quiet and Samuel had puzzled out his plans for Amanda's awakening, he slid on silent feet down the hall to his bedroom.

He paused when he glimpsed the hunched shadow sipping scotch in farthest corner of the darkened den. Not my problem, he tried to tell himself, but his heart wouldn't listen and kept him tossing throughout the night.

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Monday was as frantic as he had imagined. Transitioning Amanda's prescriptions paired with two new intakes at the clinic, one by order of Judge Bradly, had taken his entire day. He barely had time to nod his thanks to John for the dinner plate that was slipped onto his desk before the phone rang again, and he spent another hour on the phone with His Honor, working out the finer points of the courts' expectations so the young heiress might be reunited with her children.

Therefore, Samuel was not prepared for the angry whirlwind of John, searching every cabinet for alcohol.

"What are you trying to say? I'm not one of your clients, and I planned to pay for the bloody scotch!"

"Dammit, Wolfe, am I meant to ignore addictive behavior in my own home?" Shouting at the end was definitely the wrong tactic. Merlin on a bloody mustang, why couldn't he keep his cool? He'd guided a spoiled, resistant brat to decide to cooperate with treatments that very afternoon, yet with John, he wasn't a respected psychiatrist, he was a desperate ex-lover who couldn't control his own temper. Okay, if you can't be calm, play calm.

He tried again. "I'm sorry. I was wrong to shout. I've tried to forget, you know. Tried to forget you. Tried to forget us. Tried to forget what it felt like to belong.

"I can't do it. I can't live here in this house with you and pretend that we were only ever adversaries. I keep wondering who you've been cooking for, where you learned how to bring out the best of a fine steak with a sweet white wine."

"Samuel.."

"No, wait, I'm not finished yet. I might not be able to keep my professional distance with you, but I still know an alcoholic when he's staggering through my home."

"Sev, I'm not an –"

"Remus, don't try that with me. Things are different now. I'm stronger than I was. So if you need to drink yourself to oblivion to sleep through the night... or is it being around me that drives you to hard drinking? Either way, you can go home and do whatever you please. If you stay, you have to quit."

The silence was terrifying. Had he just burned his last bridge?

Samuel watched the color drain from John's face.

"I'm not a drunk."

"Then it won't be a problem to stop drinking."

"When did you get so bossy?"

"Does that mean you'll stay?"

Samuel told himself that he'd never hoped for more than a sullen nod in answer, but couldn't avoid a touch of sadness.

"Just so you understand that I'm not an alcoholic."

Samuel kept his spine stiff. "Fine. Prove it." Then decided it was time for an olive branch. "Let's go see if Bess has any pie left at the diner."

Bess housed her kitchen in a very modest shack that shared it's roof with a gas station and convenience store. The sign in the window simply read 'Diner'. John raised an eyebrow when Samuel asked for a table in the corner, and Bess walked them past the bar to a room with windows so large that they filled the entire wall, but he didn't comment. Samuel quietly shared that the pie was certainly not as inspiring as the tiramisu John had served on Sunday, and the man finally smiled.

The twilight offered them very little to see beyond the brightly lit patio, and John snorted when he saw the large metal contraption holding the lid down on the garbage can.

"Has someone been stealing trash?"

"Do you remember what I told you about bears?" And somehow they could talk about wildlife as though the last five years had never happened. John was amused by stories of persistent raccoons, and even Bess joined in, telling stories of silly questions that tourists ask season after season.

"Please tell me you made that up. How could anyone think that deer turn into elk?" John seemed genuinely shocked.

"That's nothing. My cousin works the North Gate in Yellowstone Park, and he is constantly explaining that the animals do not sleep in kennels, and no one knows for certain where the wolves will be each day." Bess shook her head. "I think they just don't realize how artificial everything is in the cities."

Samuel waited until they were outside in the moonlight to ask, "Have you made any progress in contacting your 'wizard friend' about Amanda?"

There was a long pause. "I'm not sure if that's such a good idea."

"If housing is your concern, it needn't be. Bess houses short term boarders for the clinic quite regularly." And then it was Samuel's turn to snort as John was startled by a huge black dog barreling out of the bushes. "My god, man. I would have thought you could smell the difference between a dog and a bear. Hercules, down."

By then John was laughing too. "Maybe once I've smelled a bear, I'll have some basis of comparison."

"Have no fear, bears are pungent. When you wonder what that stench might be, start looking for the bear." The camaraderie was back as the big Newfoundland walked with them in the late Montana twilight.

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Samuel found he couldn't hold on to his equanimity the next day. Much as he had anticipated and prepared for Amanda's abject horror, the alternating shrieking and sobbing was wearing him down. Then in a single breath she was chillingly silent. She remained terrified, evidenced by her racing pulse, but as Samuel watched, she forcibly slowed her breathing and made eye contact.

"No more games." Her raspy whisper was unexpectedly firm. If she thought this was simply a continuation of her torment, he wouldn't be able to help her. It was time to regroup, so Samuel followed the only plan that came to mind. He fled.

"Look, Wolfe, just bring the bloody bastard here. Kicking and screaming if necessary. She needs someone she trusts." He turned on his heel before the man could argue and beat a hasty retreat to the clinic.

He was not surprised when Cathy told him that Mr. Wolfe had two young guests waiting at his home to speak with him. He spilled his coffee on his new Persian rug when he saw who was sipping tea with John.